


pluviophilia

by propheticfire



Series: Scenes From Fics I Will Never Write [14]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon), The Dragon Prince: Tales of Xadia
Genre: Gen, No Plot/Plotless, POV Third Person, Pre-Canon, Rain, Short One Shot, but the playtest material has a separate story and cast of characters, canon-compliant: Tales of Xadia playtest, fictional climate study, hi tag wranglers! Tales of Xadia is a new TTRPG in the world of The Dragon Prince, making up personality traits and running with them lol, mood study, more poetic than scientific, pluviophilia, so I made a new fandom tag for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propheticfire/pseuds/propheticfire
Summary: A moment in time. Nausics thinks of the weather, and of events to come.
Series: Scenes From Fics I Will Never Write [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/863968
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	pluviophilia

**Author's Note:**

> I'm itching to write fic about Nausics, but I have no plot or decent story ideas yet, so please accept this first entry in the Tales of Xadia fandom.

It doesn’t rain in Innean.

It’s too high for that.

Here, the clouds drift by at eye level, sometimes swallowing the island in a cool gray mist. Beads of moisture gather on any exposed surface, as if sprung from the very stones and crops themselves. To venture out in such weather is to be immediately drenched in cloudwater. The air is thick, but refreshing. Tasting of something slightly sweet, and of the fresh wildness of far-flung winds. The town fades into hazy shadow, as if a half-formed dream, its details not quite clear.

It’s his favorite weather.

But it’s not rain.  
  


He’s heard of rain, of course. Read about it in the many books that stuff the shelves of his study. Knows that it once rained in Innean, many hundreds of years ago, when the island was yet close to the ground. But try as he might, he can’t quite picture what it must be like. To have the clouds roll over you, but not touch you. To have great fat drops of water falling everywhere. It makes a sound, he’s read, but what is that like? How does it not damage the land, falling from such a great height?

Shaking his head, he returns his thoughts to the present, and to the small Innean cypress on the window ledge before him. With a delicate pair of shears, he trims errant branches, guiding the tree into a twisting spiral. A perfect mirror of the ribbons of magic that flow around the Primal Well far beneath him at the base of the Keep. As above, so below.

Except not, because below, it rains.

There go his thoughts again. He sets the shears aside and takes a long, slow breath, casting his gaze out of the tower window to the high mountains in the distance. A distance that grows ever closer. Some things are inevitable. What goes up must come down. He’s not trying to change that. He only hopes that he’s shaped his part of this destiny well enough to see it settle him gently at the bottom, after having been on top for so long.

And maybe, once he’s down there, he’ll get to see the rain.


End file.
